Leather & Lace
by Erynnar
Summary: A tale of a City Elf rogue and a human mage a combination of CE and Mage Origins ,their meeting, their odd friendship and how their lives' threads become entangled. Eventual spin-off with my Soulmates' Anders and DA2's Fenris.
1. Point d'Angleterre

**BioWare****owns****all****but****what****I****made****up****. : )**

_So__, __my __muse __decided __to __bite __me __in __the __bum __and __give __me __goose __to __start __the __back __story __of __two __people __who__ will __show __up __in __First__Cut __and __Soulmates very __briefly__, __before __appearing __in __an __Anders from Soulmates __spin__-__off __I__ have __planned__. __This__ will __be __the __back __stories __of __their __lives __growing __up __and __their __eventual __meeting __and __friendship__. __They __are __Ferelden__'__s__ "__Odd__ Couple__," __hence __the __name__ "__Leather__ & __Lace__" __for __the __story__. __I __hope __you __all __enjoy __reading __it __as __much __as __I__ have __enjoyed __writing __it__._

_Shout __outs __to __those __who __have __put __my__ other __stories __and __me__ on __favs __and __alerts__, __and __reviewed__. __I __hope __you__ all __enjoy__ this __story __as __well__._

_Special __shout __out __and __love__ to __my__ betas__: __Piceron__, __Ladyamesindy__, __mackillian__, __and __Violet__Theirin (special shout out for the title for this story, thanks sweet girl!)__. __I__ couldn__'__t __do __as __good __a __job __without __them__. __Thanks __ladies__! __I __love__ you __guys__!_

_And __my __love __and __blessings __to __all __my __fans__. __You __all __make __my__ day__, __my __week__, __my __year__. __I __can__'__t __thank__ you __all __enough__. __You __are __the __best__. *__HUGS__*_

_**Blessings**__**! **_

They found her, a wide-eyed and soot smudged little girl, amidst the bodies of her parents and the burning corpses of the bandits who had killed them—the burning mounds of what were once human beings, melting the thinning snow in the month of Guardian.

First to make the discovery were a group of peasants taking their winter vegetables and canned goods to the town market. No one had been willing to go to her, not with her tiny hands still glowing with flames that did not burn her.

Instead, one of their group elected to run to the village and fetch the soldiers there. Or so she thought, given that the older boy returned with two soldiers in tow.

One soldier, the younger one, stared at her, wide-eyed, and refused to go near her, not even with a sharp reprimand by the other. Instead, he stared at her as if she were a poisonous snake about to strike.

She guessed the older one was in charge, but since she spoke only a few words of Fereldan, it was just a guess. Papa—fluent in the language—had been teaching her and Maman, but their lessons had only just begun. The older man reminded her of Papa's friend, Uncle Leodegardis, the head of the Chevalier in Val Royeaux, and the man from whom she had her middle name.

The soldier came towards her, causing her heart to beat faster. Despite his resemblance to a well-loved figure in her life, he also reminded her of the soldier back home, and the reason why Papa and Maman fled Orlais and came to Ferelden.

She still remembered the sneering young nobleman's brat—made a chevalier due to his family name rather than any talent as a warrior—who put his hands on Maman, trying to kiss her, tearing at her mother's clothes. Papa had pulled the man off her mother and they scuffled. The man had drawn his sword. Papa shoved the man back forcefully and the chevalier fell, cracking his head open on the paving stones of the street and never to rise again. Uncle Leo told them to flee, to leave Val Royeaux and Orlais, and never come back or the nobleman's father would make sure that Papa would hang from the gallows. Uncle Leo then smuggled them out of the city in the middle of the night.

So, she had lost her home and come to this foreign, cold place. And now her world was rocked on its foundation once more.

She backed up until she bumped into the wagon wheel of their cart. She trembled with exhaustion and fear, and tears for her Maman and Papa, coursing down dirty cheeks, were joined by soft little mewling cries.

She wanted to be brave. The heat of anger that had swelled up when the bandits first cut her father down, and then her mother, when Maman wouldn't stop screaming, left not even a flicker. All she felt was empty, afraid, and alone.

That anger, the heat of it had risen up and overwhelmed her. She remembered hearing someone screaming in Orlesian, "burn!" All the fury seemed to flare out of her fingertips, causing each bandit burn like a torch as her tiny fingers pointed their way.

She shook her head at the man who still made his way towards her. "_Non__, __sil__' __vous __plaît__, __non__. __Je__veux __que __ma __mère __et__ mon __père__! __S__'__il __vous __plaît__, __je__veux __rentrer __chez __moi__!_" She began to cry in earnest now. Couldn't he understand she just wanted her parents to get up and for them all to go home?

She watched the man's steel grey eyebrows rise in shock, as did her own, when he spoke perfect Orlesian to her—albeit with a heavy Fereldan accent. "_Ma __petite__, __habitez__-__vous__en__ Orlais__?_ Are you from Orlais?"

She felt such relief hearing something so familiar in a land so foreign, dangerous, and frightening that she swayed as she nodded. The man caught her up and cuddled her close like her Papa did, while his metal armored hand gently stroked her red curls. She relaxed and rested a damp cheek against the cool metal covering his chest.

"_Vous __êtes __en __sécurité__, __ma __petite__, __vous __ête s__en__sécurité__. __Vous __n__'__as __rien __à__ craindre_. You are safe, little one, you are safe. You have nothing to fear." He gently picked her up, grasping her small body to his as he turned and gave orders to those standing there in Fereldan. She guessed it had to do with Maman and Papa's bodies, and disposing of the bandits.

She must have fallen asleep as he carried her down the road back to the town the soldier came from, as she awoke to find herself in a big, four poster bed abutting a wall with a window that had frost crystals drawing lacy patterns across the thick glass.

Maman told her the fairies danced across the glass in the night, leaving their footprints behind. The thought of her mother and father made tears well up and the glass to waver as if it was underwater.

She shook head and pounded small fists on the cold, wooden windowsill. She must be brave; Papa and Maman would not wish her to be anything else!

She snuck a look at the hands in question, uncurling small fingers and laying them flat. They looked like fingers, not like magic weapons. How she had done what she did, she didn't know.

She put her forehead against the cool glass, enjoying the sensation as the room was very warm. The fire in the large fireplace crackled and snapped. She noticed that it must have snowed more in the night, as there were large drifts in the street below, which the people seemed to ignore as they traipsed through the mounds of snow as if it were a sunny day.

The scene below began to waver and shimmer. She realized that she was crying again, and her lower lip trembled with suppressed wails.

That was how the soldier who carried her, found her, a little girl with a cascade of curls the color of autumn leaves and smoky, grey eyes filled with tears she was trying not to shed.

"_Ma __petite__, __je __suis __trés __désolé __pour__ vôtre __parents_. Little one, I am so sorry about your parents." He came into the room, carefully shutting the door behind him while balancing a small, and familiar, chest under his arm. It was the chest she kept her clothes in after Maman washed and carefully folded them.

She watched him set the chest on the floor and come and sit beside her. His hand gently stroked her hair until she couldn't stand holding it in any longer and she let the wails and tears come. Then he wrapped her in big, strong arms, gently rocking her while murmuring softly, letting her get it out.

When the sobs subsided to little hiccups, he gently leaned her upright and handed her a large, clean, white handkerchief. She used it to scrub her face dry, only looking at it for a moment before deciding it might be rude to blow her nose into it.

He seemed to read her mind and smiled while gently holding it up for her to do just that. The gesture made the tears want to start again as her Papa or Maman would have done that very same thing. He gently folded it over and and put it aside before holding out a large, ungloved hand to her. In fact, he was not wearing any armor at all. Rather, he was dressed in a simple homespun shirt and leather leggings, not a soldier today, it seemed. "_Je__m__'__appelle __Kedric__, __et __je__suis __un __soldat__ du__ château __Highever__. __Vous__ êtes __à __Le__Corbeau__et __L__'__Abeille__ Highever__._"

She put her small hand in his and he gently shook it. So, she was at an inn called 'The Raven and The Bee,' in a town called Highever that had a castle that this nice man was a soldier of.

She told him her name was Brannan. And when he asked her full name—Brannan Leogdeagardis du Vash—he made her giggle when he told her it was longer than she was tall. "_C__'__est __un__ nom__ trop __grand __pour __une __petite __jeune __fille__. __C__'__est__ un __nom __trés __fort__, __pour __un __personne __trés __forte__. _It is a name too big for a little girl. It is a very strong name for a very strong person."

He patted her shoulder and she looked down, biting her lower lip before pleading with him. "_Puis__-__je __rentrer __à__la__ maison __d__'__Orlais__? __Puis__-__je__ rentrer __à__la __maison__ d__'__oncle __Léo__ maintenant__?_" She wanted to go home and back to Uncle Leo.

He looked sadly at her and her heart began to beat faster. "_Non__, __ma__ petite__, __tu __ne __peux __pas __retourner __vivre __avec __votre __oncle__ Léo__. __Qu__'__est__-__ce __que __vous __avez __fait __à__ ces __bandits __signifie__que__ vous __devez __aller __à__la __Tour __et __apprendre__ à__ contol __votre__ magie_. No, little one. I am afraid you cannot go back to your Uncle Leo. After what you did to those bandits, you will need to go to the Tower and learn to control your magic."

He wanted her to go to a tower and learn magic? But she was not magical! What happened with those bandits was an accident! She didn't know how to do it, it just happened! She had to make him see that.

Brannan leapt off the bed, yelling all of this, trying to explain. He must be made to understand! She promised never to do it again.

He continued to shake his head while looking at her with sympathy. "_Non__, __ma__ petite__, __non__. __Je__ suis __désolé__, __mais __il __doit__ être __de __cette __façon_. No, little one, no. I am so sorry, but it must be this way."

She begged, pleaded, and cried. What was this tower? Was it a prison? Would they really send a little girl to prison? The only tower she knew of in Val Royeaux was the Bastille du Sainte Didiane, a prison for criminals and those judged to be criminals of the state for religious or political reasons. It was the name used to scare little children into behaving. '_Stop__ picking __on __your__ brother __or__ you__ will __get__ sent__ to __the__ Bastille__.'_

Brannan found herself shaking, a cold having seeped into her bones, despite the sweat that dampened her hair. "_Non__, __s__'__il __vous __plaît__! __Je__ promets __d__'__être __une __bonne __fille__! __Il __ne __se __reproduira __pas__. __Je__ veux__ rentrer__ chez __moi__! __S__'__il__ vous__ plaît__, __laissez__-__moi__ rentrer__ à __la__ maison__!_ No, please! I promise to be a good girl! It won't happen again. I just want to go home! Please, let me go home!"

Kedric looked alarmed as she stood in the middle of the room, practically screaming in hysterics. As he made a move towards her, the door opened and Brannan vaguely heard a woman's sweet voice, speaking Fereldan to Kedric, before soft hands like her Maman's gently grasped her shoulders from behind, spinning her around.

She barely registered a pretty face, framed by dark brown curls, set with dark, grey-green eyes full of concern. A cool hand was placed on her forehead before she found herself bundled into the soft, feather-filled duvet cover from her bed, and the world went black.


	2. Preparing the Hide

**BioWare owns all but what I made up. : )**

_And the second installment on Ferelden's odd couple. We met Branan, meet Shadow a girl from the wrong side of Denerim. I hope you enjoy. : )_

_Thanks to all who have put this story and me on alerts and favs. Appreciation goes to __**skorge**__ (please read her fantastic story, "__**Journey of a Hurlock"**__ told from the PoV of a darkspawn. It is a great read), __**Anya Fira, jdpupstar, KikiAries **__(her story "__**One Year Later"**__ is recommended too!), __**gaybounce, naomis8329, Morrolan, and DreGregoire**__._

_My love and thanks to my friends and betas: __**Ladyamesindy, makillian, Violet Theirin, Stella Smooth**__, and __**Piceron**__. You guys are the best, and I am blessed to have you in my life._

_And my love to you all who reviewed. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your feedback. Thank you so much!_

_And I again, apologize for the lateness of a chapter getting out. In my defense I had jury duty for a week, I finally got that mama kitty with a foster home (put out good energy that she gets a forever home) and work has been killer. I am so sorry for being so late. I love to write, and I love knowing that I am entertaining you all. I feel bad when I can't get a chapter out like I would like. I hope you'll forgive me._

_I am such a lucky person to have such great fans. Thanks for the love and your feedback. *HUGS*_

_**Blessings!**_

She was nothing more than a knife-eared daughter of a local whore. Or the flat-eared daughter of one, depending on which group you spoke to—humans or the Dalish elves.

Having fallen for a round-ear human girl when her family had traded with his clan, her grandfather had left the Dalish. He had married the girl and moved from wandering the forests to wandering with her family, traveling the roads selling goods, including his art with paint under the skin—_vallaslin_, blood-writing—of his people.

The girl's family had settled in Denerim when she had become pregnant and her family felt that wandering the roads of Ferelden would not be good for her. As it turned out, settling did nothing, as both she and the babe died in childbirth. The girl's father, in his grief, subsequently blamed the young elf and banished him from their sight.

Being an elf and in a city hostile to same, he found himself alone, grieving, drunk, and almost beaten to death by city guards and tossed into the Denerim alienage with the rest of the knife-ears to die.

And so Gran had found him, carried him to her family's little beaten down hovel in the alienage—a cesspit of the city, walled in to keep the flotsam of unwanted elves from bothering humans with their existence, well, until the humans needed some dirty, dangerous, or unpleasant job done that is.

Gran nursed the badly beaten elf for almost a year, healing him both body and spirit. In that time, Gran and Grandy—as Shadow and her twin Cyla called him—had fallen in love. Gran, being a head-strong stubborn elf and not one to give two piles of dung about what others thought, subsequently called off the arranged marriage with the elf from the alienage in Orlais and married Grandy instead—much to the consternation of her parents, and the Hahren at the time, and the twittering of the neighbors.

Gran taught Grandy how to survive as an elf in a city full of hostile round-ears, and he taught her as much of the ancient ways as his people remembered, including dances, language, and the art of tattooing the skin.

Gran and Grandy's union produced three children, a son and two daughters. And they had a happy life, until Grandy died at the hands of rowdy guards who came to the alienage for "entertainment."

Shadow and Cyla's father and Aunt Adaia were both murdered in that "scuffle" as well. The guards had not been punished, of course. The claimed they had quelled an elven uprising, and so all went back to its usual bone-crushing poverty.

That was until Gran, canny old codger that she was, opened a storefront on the docks to give _vallaslin_ to any who had the coin to pay. Many of their fellow elves came to her for their tattoos, along with a goodly number of sailors and drunk noble's brats slumming it at the dockside taverns.

Mamae taught the ancient dances of the _elvhen_ that Grandy had taught Gran, and tattooed with vines, flowers and birds by Gran herself found work at the biggest and most well-known brothel in Denerim, The Pearl, as an exotic dancer. With feathers and gems glued on to the _vallaslin_, Shadow's mother was considered one of several special shows for exclusive clientele, and show only, unless their mother chose otherwise, or the extra coin was high enough. If not, old Matrell, grand old dame of Denerim and owner of the Pearl, would pluck the fingers off any who broke the rule and make them eat them after her second, Sanga, cooked them over a fire first. Or in the case of the nobles and their brats, both legitimate and not, banished from the Pearl's services for life.

Shadow, and her sister, Cyla, spent their days in the Pearl's common room, or wine cellar, or even sneaking into empty bedrooms sometimes to listen at the walls and giggle at the funny noises coming from the neighboring room—provided they didn't get caught at it by Matrell or Sanga and have their ears boxed soundly.

While other children, even the elven ones in the Alienage, learned games like roll the hoop, or hopscotch, or stone toss, Shadow and her sister were learning to play Diamondback or Wicked Grace. Patrons of The Pearl thought it was cute to teach two little elven girls to play cards—at least, until they started winning.

Sometimes Matrell or Sanga would pay them to do some chores, sweep, polish, or wash glasses, wipe down tables. They would eagerly spend their money at Alarith's store—helped to exist in part due to a loan from Gran—on candy or honey sticks, jerked meat, or playing cards. Once, they pooled their monies and bought a set of throwing daggers from some down-and-out thief and assassin turned full-time drunk.

With the knives, they learned to play and bet on the game called Bodkin Johnny, which involved aiming and hitting various parts of the image of man painted on the wall of the Pearl. Hitting different parts of the man earned different amounts of points, depending on the difficulty and accuracy to hit the target being aimed for. Shadow and Cyla became so proficient that only strangers to Denerim and The Pearl would challenge them.

That was when they weren't at Gran's tattoo parlor on the docks. But the twins preferred the Pearl with all the potential goings-on and money to be had.

It was at The Pearl on a Fereldan spring day with the common room packed with the usual patrons as well as unfamiliar faces. The air was thick with pipe smoke, the smell of unwashed bodies, beer and spirits, the meal of the day offered by Matrell's ancient elven cook Tilly, and the incense Matrell lit for ambiance, or as Sanga liked to say, "To put perfume on pigs."

Matrell loved days like this, as the men and women spent their coin on food, drink, or whoring to stay out of the rain. No coin, and Matrell would have Gan, a giant wall of walking muscle and the doorman of The Pearl, toss the offender into the street—the tossing being literal, not figurative, with bets being taken, when the occasion arose, on how far and how many times a displaced patron would roll.

One of the visiting strangers in question, dressed in finery, wore the dark complexion and black curly hair of one from Rivain, yet spoke Fereldan with an Antivan accent. His appetites included not only fine clothes, but the coin to enjoy a private room with two of Matrell's best, a brother and sister who brought in much coin—they were a team act—for not just half the turn of an hourglass, but four full turns.

Their well-to-do customer was taking a break in the common room playing Diamondback with Topper, master of the Denerim's thieves guild, her apprentice Slim Couldry, a young skinny red-headed lad, Matrell, Sanga, and Gran, who was spending time with her old friend Matrell and drinking fine Fereldan Whiskey. Shadow and Ceyla were hovering nearby, watching the adults play the game.

Shadow could never pinpoint it, the exact moment when all was quiet with the gentle murmuring of conversations, or the gentle _thwacks_ of daggers embedding in the wooden wall, or the gentle hiss of rain or the rumbling growl of thunder ceased to be the background music in the room. Not the moment when the table was overturned and the room was filled with the clinking of coins hitting the worn wooden planks of the common room floor, and the _shishing_ sounds of daggers and swords being drawn all around the room.

The handsome stranger stood grasping the wrist of one of the poorer thieves in Denerim, Glew—poorer in skill and coin, yet rich in misplaced ego—Topper wouldn't even have the man in the guild.

The stranger kept his voice low, friendly even, yet it carried to all corners of the room. "It would be a pity for a man with your skills to lose his fingers for stealing from me, as you need all the help you can get, no?"

Glew's friends and fellow incompetents, who all together were un-affectionately called "The Three C's"—calamitous, clumsy cretins—by everyone who knew them, closed in around their mate.

Both Hael and Penvro put hands to daggers, which only made the stranger chuckle and grin, and had Old Matrell burst into deep-throated guffaws. "You lads have always been all foam and no beer."

Gran slapped Matrell on her meaty arm, nodding in agreement while addressing Glew, Hael, and Penvro. "I've seen smarter things fall out of a chicken's arse than you boys. Stealing from an Antivan Crow is about as dense a thing as you could do."

"And deadly, which will at least keep them from siring any progeny and cease giving proper thieves a bad name." Topper cocked an eyebrow while snorting in derision.

Penvro had enough sense to pale considerably at Gran's words about who the stranger was, but Glew just glared and ripped his hand from the stranger's grip. "Crow, chicken, or sodding bluebird, what's it to me, eh? Prove I stole from you!"

Penvro tried desperately to talk sense to his friend, as he obviously knew just how dangerous Glew's pick of a mark was. Hael just continued to look confused and swig his ale, no surprise there.

Glew ignored his friend and continued to glare at the stranger, who merely looked amused. One moment the stranger was standing and grinning, the next minute Penvro was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, Hael lay on a table grasping his throat and choking, while Glew found a very sharp knife pointed under his chin.

The Crow grinned at Topper. "Not just any assassin, but a Crow, dear lady. We are the best, after all."

Shadow, being the bolder of the twins, walked up and gently tugged the lace edged sleeve covering Topper's arm while holding up the heavy leather purse she had "procured" from Glew's person. The bag was of fine leather, heavy with coin, and painted with a beautiful design.

Topper grinned and took the bag, gently chucking Shadow under the chin. "Now, did you happen to find this in Glew's pocket, love?"

Shadow grinned and nodded. The assassin winked at her before using the pommel of the dagger on Glew's head, knocking the man out. He came to kneel before Shadow, putting gentle hands on her shoulders. "Thank you, _cara mia_. The coin's loss would have been an annoyance to be sure, but the papers I am delivering would have meant my life." He stroked her cheek softly before rising up and taking the sack from Topper.

Matrell stomped her foot at Penvro and Hael getting their attention before waving a hand at Glew. "Oi, you lot, take this pile of dung you call your friend out of here, and don't ever come back. Consider yourselves lucky you're all still breathin'."

Matrell turned toward her doorman, Gan. "Gan, see that these men find their way out, and remember their faces. They stick their noses in this door ever again, flatten them."

Gan merely nodded and went behind Penvro and Hael as they dragged Glew between them, placing a meaty hand on their shoulders and guiding them towards the door.

Matrell spoke to the stranger as she righted the table with Gran and Sanga's help. "Thank ya', lad, for not making them bleed on my floor more than ya did. Add to that it's rainin' somethin' fierce and poor Gan would get good and soaked takin' out the trash."

The Crow grinned and nodded as he sat back down and began shuffling the now replaced deck of cards. "_Si_, they were truly not worthy of my skills and I am here for relaxation and amusement. Killing them would not have provided either."

Shadow poked Ceyla as the adults settled themselves once more, and her twin quickly placed the small leather bags she and Ceyla had stolen from the Three C's while they were busy with the Antivan. Shadow walked boldly up to the table and began to place their booty purloined twice over on the scarred wooden surface.

Topper snorted and slapped her young apprentice Slim on his back hard enough to topple him slightly before gently tugging on one of Shadow's braids. "See here, Slim, this is why you are an upstairs man and not a pickpocket!"

Slim blushed furiously. "Indeed, my fingers are not nimble for pockets, but they are good at locks."

Gran grinned and shook her head. "So, you thought one good turn deserves another did you?" Gran winked at Shadow and Ceyla as they both nodded obediently.

Matrell snickered. "You know that now they know they can, and do it well, they will do it again. Best send them to Topper and the guild for training and protection, Gran."

"Indeed, talents should never be wasted and this is a dangerous world, best they learn how to make their way in it, no?" The assassin winked and proceeded to pull up a chair which Shadow and Ceyla knelt on together. He proceeded to deal the cards.

Gran gave the twins an appraising look. "We all have to make our way best we can, that is true." She turned to Topper. "I don't see their mam disagreeing; we do what we must. Topper, will you train them and give them the protection of the guild?"

Topper smiled at Gran and nodded, winking at the girls. "You start tomorrow, little ones. Come to the guild hall. Not too early, mind you. Morning is only good to keep night and afternoon from bumping into one another."

The comment elicited chuckles from around the table as they settled down to play cards while the storm raged on.


End file.
